DOTY, WRITE THAT DOWN.

     he is ever a gentleman, slowing enough to offer his arm to the lady of whitestone as they go. the nickname is a joke, a venomous one at that, between them. were it among people who were not the two of them or their gaggle of friends, the words wouldn’t pass his lips at all.

     vex’halia, for all her thorns and brambles, was his. . .friend. the word is still very new to him, really, outside of his constant mechanical companion. doty hovers nearby, a few feet behind them, as they make their way through the estate.

THAT’S why she’s a fan, that’s why she has all his books, and jester just really thinks vox machina are a bunch of losers, i guess

I CAST SANCTUARY.

     keyleth’s voice sounds so far away in his ears, covered by the violent ringing that accompanied being battered to thoroughly. this had been a terrible idea, a terrible, terrible idea -- he should go back home and put the vox machina out of his mind and. . .

     gods above and hells below, why did he ever think to come with this band of LUNATICS?

      keyleth’s antlers swim into view once his vision clears and he offers a crooked, bloody smile when she steadies him. oh, she seems to be upside down. . .no, no, he’s just lying on the ground and she’s leaning over him. a strand of her red, red hair falls in front of her face and he can’t help but focus on it.